Inventing Moses Beach | Introduction| Encountering Moses Beach
It’s okay. I hadn’t heard of him, either.
It’s entirely fitting that I would first encounter the name Moses Yale Beach in a copy of an old newspaper story.
As I began to look into the details of his life, I’d realize that it hadn’t been unusual for Beach to have been mentioned only as an aside in the article; a point of interest within the main story. That is how Moses Beach and his legacy seem to have been treated over the last nearly two centuries ~ as more of a historical footnote than historic figure.
And it’s such a great old Yankee name, isn’t it? “Moses Yale Beach”.
Old Testament, notes of Founders, and New England saltboxes. It just sounds like one of those names we’d learned in history class, and long forgotten. The tones struck by the name are evocative of the times in which Beach lived his fascinating and nearly forgotten life ~ the early decades of the United States.
Still, for most of us, in terms of those “Oh, right! That guy!” run-of-the-mill bells, the name Moses Beach doesn’t really ring ‘em. So, in way of a brief introduction:
Born in 1800, Moses Yale Beach is best ~ or, least ~ known for having been the Sole Proprietor and Publisher of the newspaper credited as being the first successful “pennypress” to be printed in America: The Sun. Published in New York City, the paper had been started by Beach’s brother-in-law, Benjamin Day, in 1833. Beach bought out Day’s first partner, Wisner, in 1835, and bought out Day’s share, in 1838. The Sun sold for a penny, and it was an alternative to the existing six-cent daily papers, such as the Evening Post and Courier-Express. Four pages, and not much larger than a sheet of copy paper, its content was aimed towards serving the teeming numbers of immigrants and laborers flocking to the city of New York; crime and court reports, other local news stories, and loads of ads.
However, Moses Beach’s most notable contribution to journalism ~ more specifically, news gathering ~ was made in 1846. During the Mexican-American War, Beach proposed to his competitor newspaper owners ~ some with whom he’d had very contentious relations over the years ~ the establishment of the first news syndicate, to defray the costs spent individually on transporting — by ship, steam rail, and pony express — the most current news from the US/Mexico conflict. They would all share in the effort, the expenses, and in the news reports.
They would call it The Associated Press.
That Moses Beach. That’s who I’m talking about. He’s the guy who created the Associated Press, back in 1846. It’s okay; I hadn’t heard of him, either. And I likely wouldn’t have, save for his appearance in the old news story.
But what was this early-American, old-time New York newspaper man doing in a story about an Irish immigrant family in Connecticut?
The article that I’d uncovered had been published in 1958, in an edition of The Hartford Courant1. The story concerned the sale of a Rocky Hill, Connecticut farm by the ancestor of two Irish brothers named Dowling. In the 1850s, the Dowling Brothers had left behind the back-breaking quarry work in nearby Portland in a search for California gold; they’d returned to Rocky Hill in 1860, purchasing the 120-acre farm with the gains which they had wrested from their western adventure.
At the time, I’d been researching an Irish family named Kelly, who’d had settled in Rocky Hill a quarter of a century earlier. They were kin to my own Kelly line, and it was the “Kelly farm” which the Dowling brothers had purchased in 1860. I’d come across the news story related to the sale; and what instantly caught my eye was the part which mentioned from whom the Brothers Dowling had purchased the farm, back in 1860. It wasn’t someone named Kelly, as I’d expected to see, but rather:
“Moses Y. Beach and his wife from Wallingford.”
Fortuitously, after his telling of the Dowlings’ story, the writer went on to provide some clues to the connection of Beach to the 1860 sale of the Kelly/Dowling farm. He gave a brief biography, hitting Beach’s greatest hits: Yankee-born, Owner of The Sun in New York City; and founder of the AP.
The article continued by noting land records of the time; the acquisition of the Kelly farm by a Julia Kelly during the 1840s, and the subsequent sale to the Dowlings in 1860 by Julia Ann Beach and Moses Beach. The writer observed that there was no mention in his biographical sketches of Beach having had a second wife; what’s more, his first wife ~ Nancy Day Beach ~ was known to have lived until 1880, and was buried in the Beach Family plot in Wallingford, CT.
The Courant writer had found this reference to Beach and the Kelly/Dowling farm an interesting angle to include in his story, back in 1958. In 2021, I’d been coming at it from a different vantage point, and I was more than a little surprised by Beach’s appearance in the record. And I realized that the writer may have overlooked another story within his story.
How would the daughter of an immigrant Irish farmer in Connecticut end up the wife of this New York City newspaper owner ~ and the Founder of the Associated Press?! Who was this Moses Yale Beach?
Now, with some interest in learning more about his connection to my distantly kindred Kelly, I began a search, expecting to find a biography or two on “Moses Yale Beach, Olde Time-y Newspaper Guy” ~ maybe a memoir or biography. To my surprise, I could find neither. In fact, aside from a 1918 book on the history of The Sun, not much had been written about Moses Beach.
His “Wiki” page was my first source of information, and it could probably be best described as unremarkable2. The same general beats are hit: Yankee-born, apprentice, cabinet maker, inventor.
“He then invented a rag-cutting machine for paper mills. The invention was widely used, but Beach derived no pecuniary benefit due to his tardiness in applying for a patent.”
Right. The old “pecuniary benefit” gripe. The first two paragraphs of his biography are lifted, more or less directly, from various biographical sketches from Beach’s day; composed either by Beach himself, or by one of his writers at The Sun.
Overall, Beach’s tenure at The Sun is given rather brief acknowledgment. He’s credited with creating the first newspaper insert in 1841; and, of course, his creation of the Associated Press.
And the Wiki entry for Beach’s newspaper, The Sun (pub.1833~1959), is nearly devoid of any mention of the man, save for one.
One!
Under a list of “Journalists at The Sun” :
“Moses Yale Beach, an early owner of The Sun.”
Now, this I would view as just one slight too many, were I Mr. Moses Beach.
In 2002, the AP published a brochure that noted the restoration of a portrait Beach had commissioned of himself, circa 1846. Beach’s great-great grandson had submitted the old painting, along with a collection of documents to the AP Archives. Included was a hand-written note by Moses’ eldest son, Moses Sperry Beach, noting the date and circumstances of the formation of the Associated Press. The note had been written in 1872, after the death of the founder of the New York Herald ~ and Beach’s long-time editorial nemesis and competitor ~ James Gordon Bennett, Sr. In perhaps the most stinging of historical slights against Beach, the creation of the AP had long been misattributed to Bennett. In fact, Bennett had often made the claim, himself, and had again been given credit in his death notices and obituaries in 1872, prompting M.S. Beach’s notation. In 2002, the documentation had secured Beach in his rightful place on the AP’s masthead.
Although the 2002 piece gave Beach’s biography a fairly broad stroke, a more detailed accounting of Beach’s role in the paper was made in 2021 by the AP Archives, in a photo/blog series done for its 175th anniversary.
Early on in my exploration, it seemed apparent that almost within his own lifetime, Moses Beach’s star had risen and set, coming to rest just below the horizon line of history.
Balderdash! Hogwash!
Codswallop. That’s right, I went there.
Moses Beach was more than just some old-time newspaper man. Beach’s touch can be felt all over modern media, today; even though the influencer is a long-forgotten ghost. The fact of the matter is, I’ve come to view Moses Beach as being the Grand Daddy of Modern Media.
Yes, I went there, too. Let me give you a couple of reasons.
By the 1830s, New York City had become the busiest port city in the country; beating out Boston and Philadelphia. Goods coming to and from the Midwest via the Hudson River and the recently opened Erie Canal had brought an economic boon to the city; and it was growing exponentially.
With Beach at its helm, The Sun became an immensely popular newspaper for the city’s burgeoning working class; and its influence was felt not only in New York, but across the expanding nation, and even abroad. The success of The Sun sparked the launch of similar pennypress newspapers in other cities. As his own New York competitors grew in number, Beach would outpace them with his innovations and ingenuity; with an eye on the most modern and fastest ways of obtaining news. From his boats in the harbor, racing out to meeting incoming ships; to his platoon of “pigeon reporters” — yes, I’m serious — housed in their coop on the roof The Sun Building, Moses Beach kept his paper at the leading edge of news and news gathering.
For those of you who still enjoy the Sunday paper, here’s a point to ponder the next time your pulling out the Parade Magazine and other extras.
In 1841, Beach created not only the first syndicated news story, but ostensibly, the first newspaper insert, as well. He hadn’t simply sent a reporter to cover President Tyler’s speech to Congress, but he’d sent a team of compositors, as well. Steaming back from D.C. to New York, they set the President’s speech to type, ready for print far ahead of The Sun competitors. Beach had arranged to sell the speech ~ printed with a blank banner ~ to twenty other papers to include, with their own banners, into their own editions.
In addition to his morning daily, Beach would print weekly, monthly and special editions ~ including one with his friend, P.T. Barnum ~ along with wood-cut prints and books.
Included in these offerings was his annual booklet entitled “Wealthiest Citizens of New York”. First published in 1842, it was a directory ~ a “Who’s Who” ~ containing the alleged, sometimes just assumed, or otherwise ascribed net-worths of the richest men of the city, accompanied by brief but boastful biographies. Huffed at by the “respectable” papers, it sold like hotcakes, every year.
Beach was also a financier; and he’d held stakes in a number of banks. It was the era of “wildcat banks” ~ speculative and unregulated. His detractors ~ more pointedly, one J.G. Bennett ~ often attempted to paint him as abusive to the poor; specifically, to Irish immigrants due to the rates on his ‘shaved’ bank notes. Most of Bennett’s criticism appears to have been driven by his personal disdain for Beach. Bennett would often target Beach with personal taunts and insults in his Herald.
But what would the first American media mogul be without a bit of controversy?
Way back, in those early decades of the Republic, Moses Beach was making news in ways that would, even today, have his name buzzing over the very syndicate services he’d created.
The early 1840s saw Beach a frequent visitor to the NY Chancery Courts. More often than not, he was there as the defendant. One libel suit involved a gentleman by the name of Epenetus Gray ~ which I point out solely due to the plaintiff having a name worthy of a Poe protagonist.
Ah, but there were more serious affairs afoot, as well.
As owner of The Sun, Beach was sued for libel by Bennett for scandalous comments he’d printed regarding the character of Bennett’s young Irish wife; the news article even called into question the paternity of their newborn son. As “Bennett v. Beach" was coming to trial, Moses was sued for a divorce by his wife of twenty-five years, Nancy Day Beach. Mrs. Beach ~ with her brother Ben’s help ~ would publish her bill of chancery, detailing her accusations of Beach’s infidelities. As Beach juggled these court appearances, his brother-in-law and former partner, Benjamin Day, would join the fray; filing suit against Beach and The Sun ~ the very newspaper that he’d founded, ten years earlier ~ after Beach published an editorial questioning Day’s character, and certain associations he was keeping. The two libel suits would play out in the courts ~ and papers ~ over the course of a year. The divorce would see less coverage, after the initial reports; such matters weren’t meant to be read by good Christians.
By 1845, Beach had emerged ~ relatively unscathed, if a bit tarnished ~ from under the legal battles of the previous years. He’d brought his two eldest sons, Moses Sperry Beach and Alfred Ely Beach, into business with him at The Sun. Both men would follow in their father’s footsteps with success of their own. Although the NY courts wouldn’t officially grant Mrs. Beach’s divorce for nearly another decade, in the spring of 1846, Moses had welcomed a daughter, Julia Ann Beach, with his new wife. And that summer, he’d established the Associated Press, and the similar New York Harbor Association.
Mr. Beach had even more ambitious plans that same year, and in August he traveled to Washington. Meeting with then-Secretary of State, James Buchanan, and finally with President Polk, Moses Beach managed to get himself named a “Confidential Agent” of the US government.
That’s right. Moses Beach was a Secret Agent.
“Beach. Moses Beach.”
At the height of the war, Beach traveled undercover to Mexico City with his writer from The Sun – a woman named Jane McManus Storms, along with his eldest daughter, Druscilla. While mostly an influence/peace mission, Beach was also scouting for new business opportunities. Although it ended without success on either front, in 1847, Polk would note a two-hour meeting with Beach as having been instructive for him. And sending back reports under her pen name of “Cora Montgomery," Storms may have been the first woman war correspondent — the first, certainly, to have reported from behind enemy lines. Today, there is a belief among scholars that Jane McManus Storms (later Cazneau) was the writer who had coined the phrase “Manifest Destiny” in defending American expansionism, having been a strong proponent.
Far from the stuffy old Yankee I’d expected, the story of Moses Beach would turn out to be a far more interesting one than my early queries might have suggested.
Which brings me back to that initial list of results, where I discovered another historical misfire; one which took me by surprise. It was the image of a daguerreotype held by the Smithsonian Institute, taken circa 1855 by an early pioneer of photography, Jeremiah Gurney. It is catalogued as being a portrait of Moses Yale Beach and his wife, Nancy Day Beach, but I knew at first glance that this wasn’t right.
National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution | Jeremiah Gurney c. 1855, New York City
That woman was Irish. And as distantly kindred to me as she may have been, her expression - the look in her eyes - was that of a Kelly.
Nancy Beach (and her brother) may have been excessive in the claims of Beach’s infidelities; but she hadn’t been off the mark. Moses had been having an affair with one young woman, in particular; and well before his wife’s claims, in fact. Moses Beach had, himself, fallen in love with a young Irish lass. Eighteen years his junior, she had been born in Queen’s County, in a place called Killenard. The image was of Moses Beach and his second wife, Julia Ann Kelly.
Beach would hand the reigns of The Sun to his two sons in 1849. Retiring to his native Wallingford, CT with Julia and their daughter, along with Moses’ youngest son, William, Beach built a grand home. At the time, it was the second most expensive in the state; the first belonging to his old friend, Phineas T. Barnum. By the mid 1850s, Beach had re-invented himself again. The Beach family became benefactors to the town. Beach gave liberally to the town schools for many years, rewarding the working class, mostly Irish, children for their attendance, as well as academic achievements. In 1864, at the onset of the Civil War, Beach donated a one hundred foot “Freedom Pole” and American flag to the town, and pledged $100,000 ~ the equivalent of 2 million dollars, today ~ to raise, outfit and arm a regiment from Wallingford.
Beach died in Wallingford, in 1868; just a few months after his son, Moses Sperry Beach, had sold The Sun to Charles Dana. Moses Sperry would later be featured in a story within Clemens’ “Innocents Abroad”. In 1870, Alfred Ely Beach ~ who’d left the paper in 1852 to focus on his other publication, Scientific American ~ would demonstrate one of his own inventions: The Beach Pneumatic Transit, New York City’s first subway system.
Julia, along with her and Moses’ two children, Julia Ann and George Washington Beach, born in 1854, would leave Wallingford for New York. Julia Kelly Beach would take up residence on 5th Avenue until her death at the age of 82, in 1901. Having arrived there decades earlier, as a teenaged girl from Ireland, she would witness the city grow up and around her, through the Gilded Age and into the new century.
Beach is still remembered in his native Wallingford with an elementary school which bears his name. His grand house would have a second life as an inn for many decades; then, ironically, a bank. In the 21st century, a cafe and art space occupy its now nearly indiscernible footprint on North Main Street.
Moses Beach may have been an “olde time-y newspaper guy”, but he wasn’t a writer. He’d left others to express his views through their writing, during his tenure at The Sun. And having never written a memoir, Beach’s story has been relegated to the anecdotes and recollections of others; found in the biographies of his contemporaries, and scattered about the Northeast in town histories and brief biographical sketches.
While there may not be many quotes directly attributable to Beach, there is something that can be, at least, ascribed to him. In an advertisement, selling-off his cabinetry stock as he was leaving Springfield for Saugerties, he’d placed a bit of advice on the top of the notice:
“Watch, and when it comes around catch it!”
Prophetic words; printed in 1828, just as a young Moses Beach was about to find himself a man of modern industry in a forgotten mill town, once an early-American engineering marvel. Moses would catch another opportunity in 1835, becoming the co-owner of The Sun, and making it the most popular daily newspaper for New York’s working class, and making his own lasting imprint on the news industry.
Through his unexpected and even unlikely careers, Beach would intersect with and find himself involved in important events of the era. While many of his contemporaries, such as Poe and Barnum, Horace Greeley and others would have their stories told and retold by historians and writers, his has been left to the footnotes. Yet, there among them ~ in the days of “Old” New York City and Tammany Hall, of Newspaper Row and Five Points ~ Moses Yale Beach had been living his own American adventure.
Welcome to “Inventing Moses Beach”.
In coming articles, I’ll explore Beach’s — from his Yankee beginnings to the Sole Proprietor of New York’s The Sun; the libel suits that rocked New York, and the young Irish woman that sparked them. His fortunate luck and his historic blunders; Moses Yale Beach may have faded from the headlines, but his story’s just getting started.
Since first reviewing it in 2021, Beach’s “Wiki” page has been fleshed out considerably.